The Sea and the Sand
by window124
Summary: Sometimes going away was the best way to come home.


It had been a while since she packed her bags like this. At the prison, Michonne had become an expert at it; her food and supplies neatly piled into her pack, a can opener at the top. She had been looking for the Governor then but had no real hope to find him. His trail had gone too cold, she knew it, Daryl knew it, and worst of all Rick knew it though he would never say it.

What would he do if he knew that she was going out again, not for the Governor, but for a new prey that would threaten her family? Threaten their new home?

"I thought you said that there weren't going to be any more breaks?"

Michonne's back stiffened at his southern drawl and goosebumps fanned over her skin. Her fingers paused on the zipper of the brown pack as she heard the slope of his walk against the wooden floor and her bedroom door closing. She didn't want to turn, to face the disappointment in his eyes at what she was going to do. What she had vowed she was never going to do again.

_But this is different, _Michonne thought to herself. She had heard what Daryl, Aaron, and Morgan had said downstairs, that these Wolves were carving people up and using them as bait for walkers. That those W's she had seen in Shirewilt were nearby and a threat to her family. That they had destroyed a community with walls and they could possibly be coming for them. She could not allow it. Not after they had found this place. Not after Carl and Judith had a bed and walls to protect them. Not when Rick had just come back to her mentally and emotionally. She would do what she hadn't done with the Governor. She would stop the threat before it ever came to their door.

She zipped the bag and heard his sigh of frustration behind her. He was closer now and butterflies whipped in her belly, a feeling she hadn't had since…

_Mike._

"So you're just going to go? Cut and run without saying goodbye to Carl? Judith?"

Michonne shook her head, her dreads touching her bare shoulders.

"It's not like that Rick and you know it."

"How is it not like it?" She could hear the accusation in his voice and wouldn't acknowledge what the emotion behind it meant. Couldn't. "How is running out at 3:00 am to god knows where 'not like that'?"

Michonne's fingers played with her bag and she bit her lip. She didn't want to cause a disturbance. She didn't want to cause a fuss for doing what needed to be done. To be capable of what needed to be done no matter what the group said.

"You're not even going to look at me? You're going to do this but you won't even look at me?"

She felt his fingers touch her arm and gently turn her towards him and she was surprised that it wasn't disappointment in his face but anger and…

_Jesus, he looks terrified._

The fear in his blue eyes caught her off guard. She was expecting his possible wrath, she had learned to deal with that back that the prison, but the fear in his eyes was a new experience. This fear for her. She braced herself has he got into her personal space, his upper body merely inches from her own, his eyes peering into her like no one else's. She wanted to back away, Michonne could not think with him this close, but she knew she would bump into the bed and that was definitely not what she wanted…not when she knew what she had to do.

"Rick…"

"You're going to unpack your bag and you are going to go to sleep and we are going to pretend this foolish idea never happened."

That got Michonne's back up. He had no right! Especially after what he'd been pulling since they got here.

"So you are the only one allowed to have the monopoly on foolish ideas?"

Rick leaned back as if he'd been struck, squinting as if the sun was hitting him in the eyes. Michonne felt a moment of satisfaction before sobering before him, knowing that would only make this conversation worse.

Rick nodded his head. "I deserve that. But this isn't about that. This is about you putting yourself in danger for no good reason."

"You know I can take care of myself. I have my sword back."

Rick gazed at the sword placed carefully on the side of the bed and then back at her.

"So you do."

"Rick, I can't let it happen again. I can't let what happened at the prison happen here."

"And it won't!" Rick whispered with a barely controlled fury.

"It won't if I go. I can stop this."

"You don't know how many of them there are! You don't know how many of them might overwhelm you."

She saw the fear in his eyes grow into a hurricane in his eyes. He wasn't thinking rationally. She was the best person to do this. She had done it before.

"Rick, I have to do this. You, Carl, and Judith deserve…"

"Don't tell me what my children deserve!" Rick turned from her, running his fingers through his hair and Michonne took in a shuddering breath. "You don't get to decide that! You promised no more breaks. You promised you wouldn't leave Carl. Did you mean that?"

"More than anything I have ever meant."

"Then why do this? Because when he wakes up and you aren't there…what is he going to do then? How is he not going to worry, Michonne? How is he not going to wonder if you are okay? If you are alive or dead?"

"Him or you?" Michonne suddenly realized she had overstepped a hidden border of their relationship. Rick became suddenly still and so did she in the quiet of the dark room with only one lamp illuminating it.

"Jesus, Michonne."

Michonne swallowed deeply, her throat suddenly dry. She had wanted to sneak out and not do this with him. She wanted to avoid it. Now this was going to be harder. Harder than even what she originally thought.

"I have to go, Rick."

Rick shook his head furiously. "You are running again. And I don't know why but it isn't fucking fair!"

"Rick…"

"You don't have the goddamn right!"

He was in her personal space again, his upper body and lower suddenly brushing against hers. His forehead slightly touched her and she gazed into his eyes.

"Rick, I don't want to do this…"

"You are staying here. I've bent for a lot of things, Michonne. Some things I shouldn't have. But you don't have the right to just leave them. To leave me. Not like this."

She wasn't sure who leaned in first but their lips were touching, gentle at first, and then the storm was raging inside of her and their kiss became frantic. Rick pushed her bag off the bed and he was on top of her, her legs bumping against the edge of the bed, both of them falling to the mattress.

She wasn't sure how they got their clothes off, how they got into the position they were in, but his tongue was on her center and it felt like lightening living inside her bones. His tongue was not languid like a Sunday morning but moved as if to prove a point and her fingernails scraped his scalp with no gentleness whatsoever. She kept her eyes on the ceiling, knowing if she looked at him it would make it damn near impossible to leave him.

"Look at me, Michonne. Don't hide from me."

Michonne looked down at him, his hair a tangled mess from her fingers, his blue eyes focused on her, the bandages from his fight still apparent on his face, and it was the most beautiful sight she had ever seen. He rolled his tongue and she shuddered and shattered against his face.

He slid up against her body, his chest meeting her breast, and he kissed her again, slowly. He then lifted her arms with his hands above her head.

"You don't get to do this to me. Don't you know?"

He left the rest unanswered as he moved down slightly to suck her right breast and nipple as she was helpless against the onslaught of his passion.

Michonne felt almost boneless against the pleasure he was giving her and she felt his hardeness against her core waiting. He stopped kissing her breasts and gazed at her with expectations.

"Rick…I…I need…"

He let go of her arms and positioned himself. He entered her and both breathed into each other the satisfaction they felt.

"Rick…I…"

"I can't lose you." Rick confessed, still above her. "Not you too."

She kissed him then, thanking him with her lips for the truth. He gasped against her lips as she clasped him with her inner walls, encouraging him to move.

They moved together for what seemed like minutes and years. Coming together and crashing together like the sea and the sands. She cried out his name in climax and he did the same, his forehead meeting hers, their eyes locking in their own embrace.

* * *

When Rick startled awake, his dreams vivid and the mental scars pure, it was morning and daylight pierced through Michonne's window. He remembered what he had done. What they had done. A small smile played on his face as he turned to reach for her.

And she was gone. She wasn't there after every thing they did. After everything he had said. Rick threw the sheets off of his naked body and fear gripped his heart. He paced around and saw her sword and the bag was gone. He noted a piece of paper taped on her mirror and gazed at the writing, hearing his heartbeat thundering in his ears.

_Rick, I'm sorry._


End file.
